Ancestors

Last night as I lay in my lover’s arms,

I saw the bones of our ancestors,

A dusty sea, vast and sacred,

Surrounding the naked platform upon which we slept.

This was their great altar,

And we…

We were their sacrament.

Long I listened to his soft breath in the timeless silence,

While ancient smiles, unfleshed,

Blessed our warm and living union.

At length the Earth, herself, spoke,

Opening wide at our feet in benediction,

To call her wandering children home.

Then back into the Earth they tumbled with joyful tumult,

Gossiping of nights long passed filled with passion and embraces.

When silence returned,

Though the ancestors were gone,

Their grace remained.

When my beloved awoke the chain was broken,

The one he always wears, that holds his family crest.

His rest, unsettled,

Had been haunted by those who’s too fresh graves,

Were not yet at peace.

Their stern faces and harsh words

Still ringing in his ears,

Echoed a resonance in my own hearing.

From his naked throat,

Fell a disconnected heritage,

And he, lost,

Set it aside.

So blessed and haunted we carried into the day

Each our own histories,

Foundations giving form to our lives.

Flawed foundations,

And rejected cornerstones,

Shaping fearful cellars

Filled with lurking ghosts

Waiting to trouble us,

Hidden bones

Buried beneath our feet,

And unexpected grace.